


Artificial Mind Palace

by TheSwindler



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bromance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humans, I am not sorry, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-good ending, Pre-Slash, Schizophrenia, Schizophrenic Connor (Detroit : Become Human), Side Pairing Markus/North, hank is a horrible story-teller, i am back with a new shit, i gave an android schizoprenia, im using that tag everytime from now on, no beta we die like men, this took turn of some fantasy shit im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwindler/pseuds/TheSwindler
Summary: A dog in a field of grass.Connor woke up from a dream he was not supposed to have.





	Artificial Mind Palace

_"Do androids have dreams?"_

He was walking in a field of flowers. White lavenders with the scent of roses, one that enticed his sensors and tickled his readings. Holding him in an embrace of fantasies.

He walked forward. His feet swallowed by the tall grasses as he glided through the field. Fingers tangled between the vines, lightly brushing against the thorned leaves like feathery kisses of morning dew.

Then, of the sudden he was running. Like a firstborn of horses chased by wolves. His feet thumped lightly against the dirt, soaking his toes with the ruddy soil, wet from waterdrops. His regulator was beating loudly against his chest, echoing within his hollow mind.

Why did he ran?

_"Technically, yes. But they don't dream like humans do. See, when they 'sleep', they are actually undergoing on a momentary shut down. To rearrange the datas they collected."_

He was floating. In an empty space in the field of flowers. The scent grew stronger, drowning him in a haze. Vines tangled his limbs, wind caressed his skin and the sun kissed his hair like a mother would do to her offsprings.

_"They 'dreamed' about numbers. Datas. The algorithms as they rebooted their systems and programs back to their tip-top shape."_

There was a tall wall. A white wall that was all too familiar, towering over him like a cage. He bent down and leapt off, using his hand as a leverage as he propeled himself over the wall like a flittering butterfly.

He landed in a field of pink peonies.

_"So see, they don't dream about sheeps or castle and dragons like us."_

The scent was overbearing. No longer a gentle embrace, but a sword cutting through the air. It made him falter, coughing flower petals into his hands.

Petals fell from the skies as he trudged on forward. The flowers grew without stems nor grasses, and he felt as if he was being swallowed by them. Like one would to a quicksand. Each time he stepped, it felt as if he landed on a bed of flowers.

_"They were 'machines', after all."_

His legs gave in and he fell. The flowers swallowed his whole being like a gaping mouth as he reached his hand forward. Fingers grasping onto the metal lid that appeared above the peonies.

He urged it open.

Connor fell and woke up.

______

He was desperate for an outlet. Desperate to tell his stories. His emotions. They became unbearable to himself as he buried them deep. The bottle of thoughts he was not meant to have was full and the cork began to unscrew for itself. A ticking time bomb waiting for the fuse to end.

A single lie was spun as a coverage for him to meet up with Markus. He trusted Hank, he really did. Yet it felt inappropriate for Connor to drag the human deeper into his mess; Hank had enough share of his plate after the whole revolution.

Thus he ended up in a diner, wearing nothing but a jacket and pair of trousers. It felt odd and out of place, way across his protocols of dressing up appropriately, but it would have to do for a simple meet up while keeping a low profile.

The diner was warm. Shades of multiple browns that were pleasing to the eyes. But there were something else that made Connor enjoyed it. Perhaps it was caused by how the place was bustling with vigored lives, or how people laughed and exchanged drinks in a warm manner that reminded him of Hank.

Markus showed up with North, which did not came across as a surprise. The two lovers sat across him in a relaxed manner, wearing coats and jackets with their hands interlinked, glowing ever so gently in the dim light like a pulsing star.

They listened to him as he spoke about his dreams. A field of flowers. A dog. A castle and a knight. Hockey players and dragons. Shuffled datas that came jumbled up like bees hopping from one flower to another. A fog that clouded him as he woke up, leaving him disoriented and in need of a system reboot.

Markus told him to try painting. To let it all out and sink in as times passed. Connor told him he couldn't, for thousand of reasons that haunted his mind since the day he was made.

North told him to write.

When the clock struck eight, Connor left the diner in a haste. An ancient pen clutched in on hand, and a journal book in the other. A book that should've belonged in vintage shops or libraries of old, not in the hands of an android. A book made of leather bound papers.

______

_in a field of grass_

_a maiden called_

_the knight came_

_yet he befallen_

_for lo the dragon was death_

_and love_

_death was the truth_

_against the lie of living_

______

"What's _that_?"

"It was nothing, Hank," Connor said, gently sliding the journal away as the man blinked his bleary eyes in confusion.

"Go back to sleep. It's two a.m."

______

_once there were_

_two brothers of old_

_one was the light_

_one was the dark_

_they could not meet_

_nor they could speak_

_at eachother for ever_

_for fate_

_was cruel_

_that she sepparated them_

_between gates of hell and living_

______

"What took you so long?" Hank asked gruffly as Connor stepped out of their shared room, fixing his tie in an orderly fashion.

"I was dressing up," he said. Hank groaned.

"I know that, but it took you too long."

"It had only been five minutes, Hank." Connor moved forward, reaching to fix the man's tie that was hapzardly bound together around his neck like a rope noose that appeared in his dreams.

"I didn't take that long." He never mentioned about the book and the pen he hid inside the set of drawers full of socks.

He'd have to look for another hiding place soon.

______

_the reaper came_

_with a crescent cane_

_with a cry the dame_

_plead for her bane_

_who had strung himself_

_to death by a rope_

______

"You seemed distracted."

The coin toss stopped.

"I have?" Connor asked, turning to look at the human in surprise.

Hank tsked, furrowing his brows as he looked away with arms crossed.

Something within Connor's stomach plummeted in a free fall. Down the trip of the rabbit's hole, with hands grasping at the light before he was swallowed to a porcelain room with a single table.

' _Drink Me_ ,' said a jar of orange marmalade.

______

_thus alice went to the red queen_

_with a bloodied axe she was keen_

_on her intent to swipe clean_

_both her foes and her kin_

______

He was back in a field of flowers.

In the midst of a field of sunflowers he sat. A hand pressed against his mouth, as his whole body jerked upon his wake.

Crimson blood trickled forth from the soft pink petals he coughed out.

______

There was something wrong with his program. Or his processors. A miscalculation caused by a bug within his systems. Within his programs, or a glitch.

Because there was no way,

There was no way that _the_ Mad Hatter would be sitting beside Sumo all the while calmly sipping his cup of darjeeling tea.

______

_dark clouds come forth_

_covering the hundred of suns_

_gracing the skies_

_a man stood and shot down two_

_before the flames swallowed his being_

______

There was something wrong. Something _truly_ wrong.

He felt as if his circuits were burnt out. Tiny fairies dancing in circles, throwing sparks as the lithium compartments melted under their graces. March Hare tore apart his wires, yodeling and howling as he insisted on making jams as the Evil Queen whispered threats and his deepest fear in his artificial ears.

The White Rabbit appeared before him, tapping his clock, telling him he was late just before Hank slammed the door open.

Connor screamed.

______

_this day i woke up_

_and found a pair of_

_striking golden eyes upon mine_

_a finger tapped against a pair of lips_

_a wind whistled_

_then it disappeared_

______

It was a _virus_. It had been a virus above everything. A Trojan Horse that broke through upon his defenses, all caused by his naïvety, just like what had happened upon the Troys.

A virus that gnawed within his data, forcing walls to rose and created borders untill he was rendered nothing but another strung puppet following a crafted path. A virus caused by a single finger hovering over a certain button. By Amanda.

If androids had tears, Connor would've cried.

______

" _This_." A book was thrown upon the table. A leatherbound book made of papers.

"Since _when_ had this been going for." It wasn't a question. It was a command thrown by a furious King to his marchwardens upon the days of their last march.

But Hank was no King. And Connor was not a marchwarden. It wasn't the medieval times.

"A few days," he whispered, fiddling with his coin as he kept his gaze away. Dread seemed to clung into his stomach as nightmares whispered paranoias that grew like a dark tree, with branches that tore apart his memories.

Sumo whined from behind the door of the room he was locked in.

"I understand if you want me to le-"

" _Shut the fuck up_ , Connor!" Hank took two long strides towards him before yanking him up from his seat. The man was trembling as he held Connor's shoulders, shaking him. Connor kept his gaze down.

"For once, in your whole life can you please, just-, _please_ fucking take care of your goddamned self?"

" _I'm sorry_..." Connor whispered. His head ached, datas streamed in his mind as he tried to sunk them in, to upload them back to his new processors. Yet he couldn't.

He was scared.

Scared that the virus was still there. Scared that he might lost himself and hurt Hank. And Sumo. And everyone. He was scared that...

He was scared that Amanda would appear if he return. Perhaps sitting with all of her given grace, sipping tea with Mad Hatter as Snow White sat beside them with bloodshot eyes and a gleaming knife.

Hank hugged him. Connor didn't. Nor did he spoke another word after.

______

"Are you going to sleep or what?"

Connor shook his head. A hypersleep would honestly did him good for him to reorder his files back up and reboot his systems several dozen times, yet he was too scared of the risk he would cause. Too scared of the dreams.

Hank pulled him closer, at the point where Connor found himself lying on the bed, eyes opened as he went far too deep within his thoughts. In a cloud at the crevice of his compartments where he would feel no fear nor pain.

He didn't notice when Hank grunted as he shifted to drape his arm across him, in a manner of a half hug. The man huffed into the pillows, gently caressing the back of the android as his other hand reached out.

Connor blinked into consciousness when he felt a hand pressed against his own. He looked to his side, facing Hank who was watching him through half lidded eyes.

He felt flowers grew in his throat when their finger interlocked. Large calloused palm holding his tight. In a shift of panic Connor had his mind reeled back, in fear that even as a human, Hank could link their minds and saw through the facade he wore.

" _Once_ upon a time..,"  
Connor blinked.

"There was a dickhead of a _knight_ who lost his son." Their fingers tangled, like threads around their hands through a bond they couldn't see.

"And he became a drunkard. Idiotic. Lost his shit and start blamin'-... _the sorcerers_." Connor felt butterflies inside him. Butterflies with wings made of stained glasses that seemed to reflect the light Hank was giving.

"Untill one day, he got paired up with a sorcerer himself to go on a.. _questing_ , thing."  
A gentle lullaby caressing him, embracing his frame gently. It was full of trust and hope that it felt so unfair for him to have it, -a mere puppet lost without strings-.

Beside the bed, Sumo huffed lightly. A slight shift made Connor realize the giant saint bernard had made his way onto the foot of the bed, curling up his large frame at the feet of his owners. Soft light fur greeted the senses of his toes.

"And as the sorcerer saved his lives many times, the knight came to learn him better." It didn't feel like a bed of white flowers. Or feather touches nor grasses covered in morning dews. Nothing could do justice in comparison to what Connor felt.

The closest one he could tell was, that it felt like the very first breath he took if he was a human, pressing chest to chest with the lover, in a promising embrace that would always catch him if he fall. A sense of sweet hope and relief. A sense of home.

"A goofy sorcerer with even _goofi-er_ sound. Innocent and asking way too personal questions. He always do this, coin tricks the knight just can never get to do right."

Involuntarily he felt his program shutting down. He was too warm to care. Too safe. The voices were gone, replaced by a scruffy one with a gentleness that rivalled fairy godmother's. His circuits whirred to a slower motion as his regulator evened out.

"And the knight loved him for that."

The voice became a lullaby. A gentle guide that walked him through a maze of walls. A voice that created a wooden door in midst of the pristine walls, one that oddly looked out of place, but what called out to Connor the most.

With a twist of the door knob, it opened, revealing a path through a forest filled with bird chirps the sound of morning crickets. Two squirrels ran over the branches as Connor walked into it, down the dirt path laid out before him.

A butterfly passed. With wings of stained glass that reflected the sunlight. Connor woke up, blinking to adjust his artificial lenses to the darkness of the room.

He let his head lie ontop of Hank's shoulder, hands still tangled, as he felt himself sinking back into his dreams. His processors clicked and hummed in a functioning delight as he did so.

**Author's Note:**

> I am back and I am never sorry.
> 
> Maybe a little.
> 
> So have this schizophrenic and extremely poetic Connor, because the snow field in his mind at the end when Amanda tried to hack him really REALLY reminds me of Winter Wonderland so maybe androids CAN dream, okay? Also because I'm in the mood for dark fairytales and poems. Pffftt.
> 
> I have this tendency to associate Connor with flowers for no reason. Pfft. He turns into Edgar Allan Poe I'm sorry guys.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> PS : I have a playlist for these dorks on spotify here --> https://open.spotify.com/user/3dhibmfa6rn62epeby5lst6a2/playlist/1VXTRlHTcpJhyd8wj3dvHX?si=MCkBvtSqTr2llaKHPidOHA //Do forgive me for the lack of picture, I'm on mobile and I can't edit it, sorry.


End file.
